Don't get me wrong - I appreciate she's loved by millions. It's just that I, personally, would rather hum and tap my feet to the gentle background gurgle of a sewage pipe than to a Shakira CD.
I accept my taste in music may not be everyone's cup of tea (quite why is unclear) so I allow the whole shop access to our instore music player. We have a limit - 10 tracks a day can be added, amongst the staff who are working. These tracks need to be generally upbeat, not anti-social, and in good taste.
So when a particularly galling Shakira track came on the player - forcing back the gag reflex - I stared into Emma's pop-loving soul and solemnly asked her if she'd mind me deleting this track. Wrongly, it turned out, assuming she was the culprit who'd soiled our beloved playlist.
But it wasn't. And she snitched: The culprit, bizarrely, was Tom.
Yes it turns out that Tom, whom I'm already aware is a big Dolly Parton fan (he has tickets for her upcoming Liverpool show) is also a zealous Shakira fan. Obsessed, apparently. He'd let Emma know. But he'd neglected to tell me.
See you Monday, Tom.... C
Tom's the spit of Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen in that shot.....Uncanny.
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